


You're My Home

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean, Cuddles, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Castiel, Genderfluid Character, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mal wrote a thing, Roommates, Snowglobe story, Soft Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: His tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, when he tries to speak, so the one word sounds like a whole effort, slurred and gruff. “Cas?”There’s a sharp intake of breath and then the hesitant clicking of heels on the floor. “Dean…? You’re awake?”“Mmyeah,” he groans. He wants to move, but he fell asleep in the worst position and he’s stuck in the sheets, his legs tingling violently. “You alright?”
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 139





	You're My Home

**Author's Note:**

> Title song for this one is by Billy Joel, thanks to Tanstaafl. Love you, fren.
> 
> Others are in the works, but these are relatively short stories that need to be written in one flow. Hopefully more incoming soon. _If you feel this needs more tags, let me know._ Wanted to keep it simple.
> 
> Until then, enjoy and be good to yourself. You are loved.  
> Mal

Blearily, Dean wakes up because of a stumbling noise on the hallway stairs. Next keys in the lock. His head feels like a particularly dense cloud, because he fell asleep on the couch. Again. Bit of a habit, he has going, especially on nights when Cas goes out. Sometimes he returns alone and Dean sneaks a look. He wants to ensure Cas is safe and in one piece. Another part of him indulges and he probably shouldn’t. But Cas is so beautiful, it’s difficult to resist. He’s been working his way up to… something, or trying to and failing.

On those other nights, when he brings extras, Dean feigns sleep, listening to the painful sounds of Cas kissing some or other brute, before they stumble into Cas’ room. Soon after, he slinks off to his own and makes sure he’s got ear plugs in. Though Cas can be quiet, his conquests are not. Big bulks of men, who seem to take pleasure in being loud and rough, until Cas’ noises make it through and Dean has to use headphones to block it out. The bullshit they say to Cas makes his skin crawl, wondering if that’s truly what Cas wants or deserves.

Whatever floats their boat. Dean isn’t one to judge. He only recently found his way out of his bisexual-in-denial closet, so he’s hardly one to talk. Now and then, he picks someone up at a bar, but he makes sure to keep his nightly adventures from Cas. The other person’s place will do. Never the space he shares with Cas. Though for the life of him, Dean doesn’t know exactly why he withholds that part of him. Maybe because Cas hides himself away.

Not his one night stands, mind. That’s what they always are. In late at night, out before the sun rises, without fail. All things considered, he is glad Cas brings them here, where Dean can intervene if they decide to up their douche levels when asked to go. The only reason he’s ever seen any of them is because the couch is his natural habitat when he isn’t in class or working. So he is no doubt part of that equation, when they see Dean on the couch.

It’s the other stuff Cas pretends isn’t there. The make-up. The clothes. Glitter and heels. The corsets and crop tops. Hair dye and stockings. Of all colours and textures.

Dean knows of their existence, because he indulges when he shouldn’t. He also knows, because about a year and a half ago, when they became roommates, Dean wanted to make a good impression. So a few weeks in, while he was cleaning, he abruptly decided to do Cas’ room too. It was in Cas’ small, private bathroom that he found the make-up. Misplaced curiosity drove him to open the closet and one drawer. All beautiful stuff. Gorgeous, even to his untrained eye, and Cas hides it away. So Dean stays out of his room and just… pretends he never saw.

But he stays up every night Cas goes out. It’s a college, but the places Cas would go to, dressed like that, wouldn’t be on college grounds, right? Who knows the type of people Cas might run into? Small town, small college, small minds. He knows this better than most, having escaped living with one of the smallest minds in the goddamn galaxy. Delayed his life to take care of his baby brother, which only now landed him in college, in the company of a living, breathing angel named Castiel Novak. Because the second they caught sight of each other, they gravitated. Neither of them felt like sharing a room with some youngin, so that deal was cut, quick and easy.

They have each other’s number and he told Cas to call him at any time of night, in case he needs a ride. Or anything else. So far, Cas never has, but he seemed oddly charmed by the offer. Fair on both accounts, though they’ve been sharing this dorm for over a year now. You live, you learn, and Dean learned that Cas could do with support - as meagre as a phone number and the promise of at least one safe home are.

Dean doesn’t sleep much. The four hours he tends to get are usually on the couch, but he tries to give Cas space when they’re both awake. Cas is a bit odd in his social interactions and often looks as if he expects a Looney Tunes calamity to befall him, if he says or does the wrong thing. Dean guesses there’s a reason or two, or more, in Cas’ past that drove him to study psychology at this age. He has no affinity for the theory, but reads the signs of abuse with ease. 

And, honestly, regardless of his motivations, Cas functions differently from anyone else Dean’s ever met.

He doesn’t get most pop culture-references, which results in the cutest head tilt he’s seen on any human in his life. He accepts Dean’s overenthusiasm that flows forth from that and has sat through plenty of movie nights since then. He makes air quotes when he shouldn’t. He mumbles a few unintelligible words into Dean’s voicemail, inevitably curses and hangs up, so Dean always has to call him back to figure out what’s going on. He saves animals he runs into and brings them home, ordering Dean to ‘fix' them. (They’re a good match. Dean’s on his way to becoming a vet.) He has the most dead-pan, often accidental sense of humour. His bright smile, though rare, can power a city. He doesn’t do hugs well, but he pops up in Dean’s personal space - all the friggin’ time. He also needs a bell, because he sneaks up on Dean when he least expects it, preferably when he’s at risk of dropping a pot or pan or glass. He loves watching Dean cook, while he chatters Dean’s ear off about bees or socio-psychological traditions from various cultures or his favorite sandwich, and cleans up the kitchen, sniffing out items in the fridge that are trying to crawl their way out. He always shares his couch blanket with Dean.

Most of all, he seems to be the only person besides Sam, who actually likes living with Dean. (And let’s be fair, Sam’s still on the fence, though they’re living apart now.)  _ Seems  _ being the key word, because Dean has a hard time accepting it as a given truth. Their mom died before he could figure out if she loved him, and their dad… Well, he’s finally six feet under, reunited with their mom, and everyone breathes easier for it.

He blinks up into the darkness, eyes adjusting to the slivers of moonlight falling in through the undrawn curtains. Cas hasn’t moved since he closed the door behind himself. Sleep-heavy, Dean’s mind is a slow-humming turbine, so he holds his breath and waits.

That’s when he hears it. Sobs that Cas is desperately trying to keep down.

His tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth, when he tries to speak, so the one word sounds like a whole effort, slurred and gruff. “Cas?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and then the hesitant clicking of heels on the floor. “Dean…? You’re awake?”

“Mmyeah,” he groans. He wants to move, but he fell asleep in the worst position and he’s stuck in the sheets, his legs tingling violently. “You alright?”

He looks at Cas openly for the first time since he’s taken to these sneaky, nighttime returns. Breathtaking. The lingering effects of sleep ease up, while he takes in Cas. Bright blue high heels. Pitchblack, sinfully tight pants. Maybe not quite pants, ‘cause there’s a shimmer to the fabric. Must be a bitch to peel off, he thinks. A white crop top that leaves Cas’ abdomen and one shoulder bare. It clings to him, because apparently Cas got rained on. A shimmer of glitter on his skin. One or other body lotion. His heart kinda breaks, when his gaze lands on Cas’ face. His hair is standing on end, which it does on any day, but it’s the smeared make-up that tells a story. Cas lets out a shaky breath that ends in a whimper, eyes wide and stark in their dark living room. He twitches, as if he wants to run, slinking sideways in an attempt to hide.

“Wait,” he says, more urgently, because he doesn’t want Cas to go. It feels important not to let him leave and continue on as they’ve been.

“I… I’m sorry… to wake you,” Cas says. His voice breaks, while he shakes his head, though at what is unclear. Dean shrugs once, as if to say it’s all fine, and holds his tongue, because Cas’ lips are still moving as if he’s trying to find words. “I… I tried to be quiet, but… I was running. This… guy… I told him no...” He trails off, looking away, as he wipes at his eyes and wraps his arms around himself. “I… Is it cold in here?”

Dean pushes up on his elbows and winces, grinding out curses when the story Cas paints materializes before his mind’s eye. “Fucking… Did that douchebag hurt you? Is he here?” He tries to swing off the couch, but he’s stuck. 

Cas shakes his head, glancing back at the door. “No. I don’t think so…”

They stare at each other. For too long, perhaps, when Cas looks down and away again, so visibly uncomfortable, Dean can’t stand it anymore.

“My legs are asleep, man, and you need a hug, so c’me here.”

Cas glares at him, expression shifting from distracted and painful to something much softer. “Well, why do you sleep like a pretzel?”

Despite the teasing words, Cas doesn’t budge from his spot. As if he’s rooted there, on the boundary of the story he needs to escape and the one Dean is trying to pull him into.

Dean gestures for him to come closer. This time Cas shakes his head, bodily curling in on himself. He makes himself smaller, which is a feat, because Cas is built, and it’s wrong. Someone as beautiful as him shouldn’t feel the need to hide, but Dean knows how the world out there can be.

“Cas, goddamnit,” he says, voice low. “Come here. Please.”

Perhaps it’s the beseechment that does it, because contrary to what he expects Cas moves as if jolted by electricity. Dean grumbles against the annoying tingling, while he makes room and Cas slips between himself and the back of the couch. It takes a moment for them to mess with the blanket and it half covers them both.

Cas looks at him, visibly unsure and stiff as a board. On instinct, Dean caresses his cheek and uses his shirt sleeve to wipe some of the stains away. Even like this, Cas really shouldn’t look so... wholesome. He’s terrified, unsure, tired, and yet somehow still more  _ right _ than Dean feels on a good day. It has to do with how he meets Dean’s gaze directly. In the shadows, his usually bright blues darken considerably.

Gingerly he moves his arm around - slow and steady, so he can hug Cas. He slumps, pulling Cas with him on accident, and they settle down. A sigh lands at his collarbone and Dean lets his eyes close, unsure what to do next. His mouth murmurs words to Cas’ hairline. Gentle ones. Compliments stringing together. About how much Dean likes living with him and how beautiful he is. How he’s safe with Dean and whatever he needs, he’ll do it.

As he says them, probably repeats himself as if reciting a mantra, a calm comes over him, and his hand falls to Cas’ hip. This feels so comfortable, he’s slow on the uptake when Cas goes rigid against him.

That’s when he semi-realizes he’s been saying shit out loud he never has before. When Cas barely escaped some predatory asshat. He curses softly and retreats, so they can see each other.

“I… Shit, I’m sorry, Cas,” he mutters. “I made you uncomfortable.”

Cas swallows hard, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. The lipstick is still there, Dean notices. “You… didn’t. I think. You surprised me, is all.”

“I did?”

“Well, you’ve never seen me like this and all of a sudden, you’re… saying all these  _ things  _ to me. Nice things.”

“Of course,” he says. “They’re true.”

Cas narrows his eyes, suspicion oozing off him. This close, the contrast between his eyes and the mascara makes them brighter. More intense.  


“Look, I’ve known, okay? I mean, one) you’re not exactly subtle when you come home, when b) I am on the couch waiting for you to come home safe and three) I saw your stuff.”

“You went in my room?”

“I… Yes. I was cleaning. Back at the start and I wanted to be nice, y’know? Clean your room for you.”

Cas huffs through an incredulous smile. “Cleaning… my room…”

“Yeah, man. You clean up the kitchen every time I make a mess.”

“Right. How much did you see?”

“Enough that this outfit is no surprise, other than that you’re absolutely stunning.”

Cas blushes, though he gives Dean a stern look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs. “Cause you were hiding it and nothing sucks balls more than someone forcing you out of your comfort zone. I figure you needed a safe space, but…”

Cas’ eyebrows - they’re sculpted - rise slowly. “But…?”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to keep hiding it, which makes sense that you did, I guess, if the roommate doesn’t talk about it.”

“Neither did I.”

Again he shrugs, unsure how to go on. Cas goes quiet, staring at him, studying him like he’s an unknown species or an extinct one, back from the dead. Several times he looks like he’s about to say something, drawing Dean’s attention to his lips. A curious upswirl butterflies in his chest, stronger with each of these ‘maybes’, until...

“How far out of the closet are you?”

That successfully chases all remains of sleep. His eyes go wide and he falls silent. It visibly irks Cas, the longer he takes to… reboot his brain, really, because replying is a few miles off. With a sigh, Cas pushes against him to create distance. A short-lived show of strength, before he drops his head back against the pillow.

“Because this is very comfortable,” he sighs reluctantly. Annoyed, even. “Comforting as well. Far too much… I can’t handle a bisexual disaster, Dean, or a gay one, or any kind of disaster, truth be told.”

Dean nods, understanding what Cas is saying, but his mouth is dry. Licking his lips, he nods a few more times in rapid succession and Cas’ mouth purses into a tight, disapproving line. 

"Right." Resigned, he drops his gaze and rests his palm to his forehead, voice tighter, as if he wants to cry. “I’m so tired.”

“You’re shaking.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Cas…”

“I can’t.”

“I’ve got you.”

And God or the Devil help him, he does. He wants to, even if there aren’t exactly words lining up. Too much at once tumbles through his head, like lettuce in a particularly violent salad spinner. To think that he’s been hiding this from everyone his whole life, only to now be called out by the one person who has the power to bathe him and all that he is in golden light… It makes a Dean Winchester kind of sense that it’s all or nothing.

Because there is no hitting and quitting Cas. The mere thought sickens him.

So it’s all out, balls to the wall. So to speak. No transition or safe zone. Committed. Out. He knows that intuitively. Seeing how Cas has been skulking around and the tip of the iceberg shit he’s had to endure, it would be downright criminal to ask him to hide or take it slow or pretend. Not when he’s shaking like a leaf and Dean is overwhelmed by the urge to do anything, to give anything to make it better. There is a depth to Cas’ need he can’t fully fathom, but comprehends on an instinctual level. He recognizes it, this urge to connect and be.

His hands have moved, while he’s been processing. To Cas’ shoulder and up the side of his neck. An intimate, cherishing hold that has Cas staring up at him wildly. As if he might bolt any second. He shakes his head, captured between Dean’s hands, pulling away marginally. His hand lands at Dean’s chest.

“Dean… Please don’t… Don’t just  _ do _ . Please.”

“I know. I’m not.”

“Then what…”

“Mmh… Please trust me. Just lemme…”

“What?”

“Lemme talk to you.”

He hopes Cas understands what he’s trying to say beyond the actual words he’s using. To an undercurrent of a feeling much stronger and honest than he’ll ever be able to express. He’s so bad at it, he’s scared that if Cas pushes him to talk, he’ll say dumb shit. The wrong stuff that sends Cas running or hurts him. He’s not exactly well versed on any of this. Just out of the egg.

Cas goes quiet, staring at him uncertainly, until the wariness makes way for something softer, a reluctant curiosity seeping in. Dean doesn’t give either of them too much time to consider. His fingers move, finding purchase along Cas’ jawline, and he bends closer to kiss him. Slow and gentle, he pours all those dreaded feelings he’s been keeping bottled up in them. One per little kiss. With every remeeting of their lips, they are feeling each other out, and while they do, he becomes aware of just how endless those feelings are. How eternally he could keep this up and never run out. Nor of the need to kiss Cas, now that he is.

He butterflies promises to other parts of Cas’ face and just when Cas sounds like he’s about to get huffy, Dean searches out his lips once more, putting a smidge more pressure behind it. Cas opens up and Dean lets out a whimper at the way this affects him. He tilts some of his weight onto Cas, whose chilly hands slip under his shirt. Impossible to say how long they keep this up. Long enough for Cas to warm up in his arms and it feels like they understand each other. Which is lovely, until Cas squirms.

“Mmwhat?”

“My feet hurt…”

He stretches one leg out across Dean’s, the pointy tip of his shoe gleaming in what little light there is. “No wonder. Those look hellishly inflexible.”

Immediately he snaps his mouth shut, worried that was rude, but Cas laughs. Glances at Dean shyly. “That’s the point. Sorta. I’m the flexible bit.”

He haphazardly leans over Dean, leg now bent so he can pry the shoe off, then the other one. When he succeeds, it’s accompanied by a sigh, while he rubs his foot. His leg is bent backwards and easily reaches to Cas' butt.

“I see that… Need a foot rub?”

Cas gawps at him, both legs now bent and crossed at the ankle. “You would?”

“Duh… Yes,” Dean says with a side eye. “Get comfy.”

Cas puts his weight down on top of Dean, a twinkle in his eyes. “I am comfy.”

Helpless in the face of that, Dean grins and touches Cas' cheek, thumb to his cheekbone. “You are, huh? Is this a cat thing?”

“Cat thing?”

“Yeah. You’re  _ such  _ a cat. No one ever tell you that?”

“I have cat ears somewhere,” Cas says, idly, “And a tail. But on the daily, no, I don’t know what you mean.”

“You sneak up on me, you have no regard for personal space, you prefer living at night, and bring home small animals.”

Cas laughs, an abrupt, joyful sound, his eyes crinkling as he looks at Dean. “Not to eat though.”

“Details.” Dean peers at him curiously. “You have ears and a tail?”

Nodding, Cas folds his arms across Dean’s chest and pillows his chin on them. “For conventions. Or sometimes just at home. I wish I had real ears and a tail.”

“I bet you’d look cute,” Dean says.

“I do,” Cas amends thoughtfully, “But it’s more of a practical reason. To communicate without having to explain myself. No words. Only flat ears and tail flicks.”

Endeared, Dean cards his fingers through Cas’ hair. “Yeah, I can see how that makes sense for you.”

“It doesn’t for you?” 

“In my case, I guess I’d be more of a wolf than a cat.”

“Hmm… How does that work?”

Dean flashes him a sweet grin. “I get kinda puppydog excited when you come home. Or just… whenever I see you. If I had a tail, I’d probably wag it. Zero control.”

Cas stifles a laugh, failing as he hides in Dean’s shirt, and giggles helplessly. There’s a muffled response.

“What?” Dean laughs.

“You really… I mean, that’s a bit of a double entendre.”

“Seriously, you catch zero references to pop culture, but you’ll do the dirty jokes?”

Cas peeks up, still laughing, and he looks so much happier than before, Dean can only enjoy the view. He got him to laugh.

“I do a lot more than that,” Cas smirks. He rubs his cheek to Dean’s chest.

“See, you even rub yourself on me like a cat. I bet you’d purr if you could.”

“Hmm, I would,” Cas hums. “Haven’t had a lotta reason to purr lately. Not when it comes to this. So thank you for that.”

“You’re… welcome?” Dean says, suddenly unsure what to do with that.

Cas leans in, planting a soft kiss, then studies him, chewing his lip.

“What?”

“No disaster, right?”

Dean shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Cas tighter. “Nu-uh. I’ve been out for a while… Just hid it from you, ‘cause you were hiding, I guess? Could’ve just been good ol’ Winchester stupidity.”

“So we’re…”

Cas falls short, as if scared to say it out loud, and Dean can commiserate there.

“We are, if you wanna…”

“Yes,” Cas hums. “Very much.”

“Ahhn,” Dean says, flustering. “Yeah. Okay. Me too. Very much.”

Cas smiles that adorable gummy smile at him. “Okay. Can I take you up on that foot rub?”

“Any time, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fifth in a series, which I haven't officially made into a series (because clutter tags). You can find all of them, if you follow the 'snowglobe story' tag. Links below if you feel like exploring <3
> 
> [Heavenly](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247922): friends with benefits dumb, but sweet boys.  
> [Thiples](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755060): festival setting with martial arts Cas and dancer Dean. Subtle genderfluid.  
> [Dance Real Close](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014339): spies AU, winter ball, blatant flirting and first kiss/time.  
> [You're My Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061300): roommates/friends to lovers, genderfluid Cas, first kiss.


End file.
